Unchartered Territory
by parttimeficwriter
Summary: Jo is dead and Harry tries to provide some comfort to Ruth. That's easier said than done...
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! It's been quite some time since I posted in here...I blame Peter Firth, Spooks: The Greater Good and all of your wonderful recent stories for reigniting my Spooks muse. I did a trawl of my computer and found this fic half finished and decided to complete it. Three years after writing the original part, as you do. I thought I had it finished and then asked my trusted friend to read through it and she asked for a second chapter which I'm part way through writing so there will be more in the offing soon. Unfortunately (for me as I have very little writing time) I seem to have unleashed an avalanche of H/R fic ideas and am already drafting a sequel to Liar Liar...God help us all for the return of that craziness...**

 **Anyway, I've rambled on for far too long.** **This is set in S8 right after Jo dies. All mistakes are my own.**

 **Comments and thoughts are greatly received.**

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"Ruth," he says, quietly, almost imploringly, as she clutches the doorframe and continues to sob. On instinct his hand raises and he reaches to touch her shoulder only to freeze at the last moment and move it back to his side. He wants to touch her, to comfort her, to take her pain away but is no longer sure that it's his place to do so. If indeed it ever was. He stands, looking lost, and watches her as she struggles to try and bring her tears under control. Her body is no longer shaking quite so violently but she is still weeping and her voice breaks as she says his name.

"Let me take you home," he offers, quietly, holding his breath as he waits to see if she will let him make this small gesture. It's the only one he knows how to make without venturing into dangerous territory. She turns to face him and their eyes meet for the briefest of moments before she nods mutely and starts scrubbing the tears from her face.

"I-I need my..." she trails off, almost overcome with grief again as she catches a glimpse of Jo's desk.

"I'll get them for you," he says, softly, and walks quickly to her desk to retrieve her belongings. There are things he should be doing right now, things which he shouldn't put off but he wants to put her first. He thinks he owes her that much at least. He tries not to think about the phone call he will have to make to Jo's mother but the grief and the guilt weighs heavy on his shoulders as he makes his way back to Ruth. She has scrubbed the tears from her face by the time he returns but the pain in her red-rimmed eyes remains and he finds it hard to look her in the eye, afraid that if he looks too closely he will find the blame and the loathing he is sure she must feel towards him.

They are silent as, in an uncharacteristic role reversal, she leads the way and he follows blindly behind.

He drives her back to the safe house she has been hidden away in and silently wonders, as they pull up outside the flat, why she hasn't found herself somewhere better to stay than this yet.

"I'll be able to move soon," she murmurs, seemingly out of nowhere, "now that I have some formal ID." She suddenly becomes aware that he is looking at her, a strange expression on his face, "What is it?"

"I missed you," he whispers, very softly, forgetting himself.

Her breath hitches and her eyes flare with something for a split second but then she shakes her head and the moment is gone. "Don't Harry," she whispers, "please. I-I can't-"

His gut churning guilt returns with full force in an instant and before he can appease her and apologise she has bundled herself out of the car and slammed the door. He watches her flee up the path and grips the steering wheel tightly between his hands as she steps inside the building without a backward glance.

He drives home on auto-pilot his eyes burning with unshed tears, his throat constricting as he comes to the realisation that he is about to lose her all over again. His head swims with far too many thoughts all at once as his heart races and he begins to sweat. He struggles for breath and has to pull in at the side if the road and wind his window down. He unbuttons his collar and gulps in the bitingly cold air as he focuses on calming himself down. He counts to a hundred, slowly, and when he feels sufficiently back in control he thinks about Ruth again. He thinks about what his life was like without her and asks himself if he is prepared to give up on her, on _them_ , without a fight. He shakes his head as he shoves the car into gear and does a very sharp u-turn, much to the consternation of his fellow motorists.

He rings the buzzer to her flat and waits impatiently for her voice to sound over the intercom. When she doesn't respond quick enough for his liking he presses every buzzer on the panel and convinces a sullen sounding teenager to buzz him into the flats. His mouth is dry and his hands tremble with pent up emotion as he raises a fist and bangs on her door.

"Harry," she sighs, wearily, as the door swings open and he comes into view. It's clear to him that she has been crying again and he hates that she has been alone and in pain.

"We need to talk," he tells her and doesn't wait for her to respond before inviting himself in. She has no choice but to retreat inside the flat as he strides over the threshold and closes the door behind him.

"I'm not sure I can do this right now, Harry."

"I know and I'm sorry," he says quietly as he stands opposite her in the middle of her living room, "but there are things that need to be said before it's too late."

"Harry," she warns, shaking her head and wrapping her arms protectively around herself. "Please don't-"

"I love you."

He watches her intently as she hugs herself tighter and stares at him for a long moment. "I know," she sighs, eventually, and lowers her gaze to the floor.

"What are you going to do about it then?"

Her eyes snap to his, unable to believe that he is making demands of her after all that has happened today. "I'm sorry?"

"I asked what you're going to do about the fact that I'm in love with you."

"Harry," she says, warningly, her anger fuelled by her grief and his unerring ability to get under her skin.

"No, Ruth. I'm sorry but I can't carry on like this," he explains, eyes soft with emotion, "I'm losing you all over again and I can't bare it."

"Someone I cared about died today and you think now is the right time to discuss this?" she asks, sardonically.

"Yes. Yes, I do." He answers; voice strong and certain. "Jo died today and tomorrow that could be either one of us so you'll excuse me if I don't want to waste any more time." Closing the gap between them he stops when only the smallest sliver of space remains between their bodies. "This isn't easy for me, Ruth, you know my limitations better than anyone else but I'm here and I love you."

She's so close that he can feel the warm puff of air on his cheek as she lets out a shaky breath and tries to control the tears which threaten to start all over again. "I love you too," she whispers, finally, her voice catching with emotion.

"I know," he says, softly, eyes warm as he gazes at her, letting her know that what happens between them now is entirely up to her.

"You want to know what I'm going to do about you loving me?" she asks as she shuffles the final inch and presses herself into his warm, solid chest.

"I'm going to let you hold me, Harry," she whispers, as his arms obediently wind themselves around her waist, "and never let go."

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 **Thank you for reading. Chapter 2 will be posted soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Apologies for the delay in posting the second chapter. Real life got in the way and then I spent an inordinate amount of time tweaking and now I'm at the point that if I don't post it I may never so here it is...**

 **Thank you all for the lovely feedback for part one, I hope you enjoy this concluding part.**

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Ruth watches Harry as he moves around her kitchen making tea. It is deeply reminiscent of that fateful day three years before where he had completed the same ritual in a different kitchen of hers and her stomach clenches as she thinks of all that has happened in the interim.

'You should have one too, Harry,' she says, softly, trying to shake off her thoughts. She is hurting enough without dredging up the past. 'It'll help.'

He smiles softly at her as he hands the mug over and their fingers brush fleetingly. 'I have to go and ring Jo's mother,' he explains, sadness etched on his face once more. Consumed by her own grief it has never occurred to her that the formalities of the situation will fall to him to sort out.

'What will you tell her?' she asks, quietly, as she fiddles with her tea cup before shoving it on to the kitchen counter. Her appetite for tea vanishing with the looming shadow of Jo's grieving mother.

'That her daughter was one of the bravest people I have ever known and it was a privilege to know her,' he tells her, evenly, working hard to push the emotion down inside himself. He can't let it out, not when he has to make this call; he owes it to Jo to not falter in this last duty.

'Will it help?' she asks, closing the gap between them and moulding her body to his once more.

'No,' he answers, truthfully, 'but then I don't know what would.'

She nods sombrely still unable to believe they have lost Jo. She can feel the tension in Harry's body and knows that he is dreading having to make the call.

'I should go and talk to her,' he says, reluctantly pulling his arms from around her.

'Ring from here,' she tells him, decisively, laying her hand on his forearm. She can see he is about to protest but cuts him off before he can start. 'Please, Harry. I want to be with you when you talk to her.'

He eyes her for a moment before nodding once. 'OK.'

-xxx-

What follows in the next ten minutes is one of the hardest things Ruth has ever had to listen to. Her tears fall freely as she sits on the sofa and listens to Harry deliver the heart wrenching news and she has to clench her fists against the heartache as she hears the anguish of Jo's mother echo through the phone. Never one to falter in his duty, Harry stoically listens to her grief and gives her what information he can in the circumstances. Her hands covers his as he ends the call and when he turns to look at her fresh tears gather in her eyes at the devastation on his face. Eyes burning she reaches out and pulls him to her chest, holding him as he cries in her arms for a women they both loved.  
She kisses the top of his head between soft murmurs of comfort and after a few moments he has sufficiently gathered himself enough to pull back and look at her.

'Thank you,' he whispers.

Ruth cups his cheek and smiles softly as he turns his head to the side and plants a soft, warm kiss on the palm of her hand. The sensation of his lips on her skin leaves her wanting more and she leans in to him without further thought. His mouth is soft beneath hers and what starts as a small nurturing kiss suddenly shifts in to something more heated. The undercurrent of desire tugs at them both and Ruth succumbs to the sensation, unaware of the low moan that escapes her as her tongue meets his.

The feel of him is exquisite and she shuffles closer, pressing herself against him as much as she can in the awkward seated position. This time it is Harry who groans and the sound of it is balm to her soul. This is what she needs, him pressed against her, making her feel alive with his heated kisses. Just as she realises how much she wants, needs, him she feels him reigning himself in and pulling back from their kiss.

'Ruth,' he murmurs, forehead resting against hers to prolong their contact, 'I'm not sure we should do this.'

'I want to take comfort in you, Harry,' she responds, feeling a thrill as she hears his breath catch at her words. She wraps her fingers around his wrist, lifting his hand until it is pressed against her rapidly beating heart.

'You're grieving,' he points out, needlessly, but she's pleased to note that he doesn't remove his hand.

'Yes.' It's true. They both are. It's not the first time either of them have been through this but it is the first time she feels brave enough not to have to do it alone. 'I want to feel something, Harry. I need you to make me feel alive again.'

He nods at her in acceptance, knowing that she needs this. They need this; a way to forge a pathway through the pain and loss to somewhere a little less bleak. He kisses her mouth softly, once, before he stands and holds out his hand to her. She takes it and they walk to her bedroom hand in hand.

-xxx-

The late afternoon sun filters through her blinds and Harry is content to watch it caress her naked shoulders as they lay entwined in her bed. He can hardly believe that the day has ended this way and he makes a vow to himself that he will end every day with her in his arms from now on. He trails a large warm hand up her back silently affirming his promise as she dozes against his chest looking thoroughly sated. His gentle movements rouse her back to wakefulness and he watches her as she shifts slightly and lifts her head to look at him.

'How are you feeling?' he asks, his husky voice adding to the intimacy of the moment.

A lone finger traces an indeterminable pattern over the skin of his chest as she contemplates for a moment before answering. 'Alive,' she says, a soft smile flickering at the corners of her mouth, 'I feel alive, Harry.'

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 **Reviews are always appreciated.**

 **Thank you for reading.**


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